


Wretched and Joyful

by TempestHale



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aftercare, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Bipolar Disorder, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Chronic Pain, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Light Dom/sub, Multi, Oral Sex, Other, Safeword Use, Safewords, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), They/Them Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:35:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23533165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TempestHale/pseuds/TempestHale
Summary: Crowley answers a late night text from manic!Aziraphale in hopes of seducing the angel. They get more than they bargained for.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 87





	Wretched and Joyful

**Author's Note:**

> This is self-indulgent fluffy smut that I started writing when schools shut down/went online for the rest of the year and I suddenly found myself with a bunch of extra time on my hands.  
> Not beta'd; all mistakes are mine.

Angel: MY DEAR I AM FEELING SO PRODUCTIVE TODAY AND HOW ARE YOU I HOPE YOU ARE WELL DEAR

Crowley read the text on their mobile screen with bleary eyes when it dinged softly somewhere around three in the morning. After several minutes of letting fog lift from their mind, comprehension set in; it was going to be one of those days.

Their angel had always been like this—even standing on the wall at the Garden they could see how he vacillated back and forth between moods quickly, as if with the changing winds of the first storm. Now there were names for this sort of thing; diagnoses and medications and treatments. But Crowley liked their angel just the way he was—ever-changing and fluid. Kind of like the demon themself.

While they much rather would have stayed in bed sleeping for another few hours (or weeks, if they were being honest with themself; but Crowley didn’t do self-honesty. Not their forte), they slid out from the cool, very high-thread-count sheets and used a small miracle to make themself presentable. Before leaving the flat, Crowley went through a mental checklist.

Skin-tight trousers—check.

Low-cut blouse—check.

Fuck-me-heels—check.

Their angel was much more open to being seduced when he was feeling a bit manic, and the demon was never one to deny a chance to have a good bit of flirting with the angel.

Nodding and flipping their long curls over their shoulder, they headed to the street where the Bentley sat patiently, illegally parked, waiting to take her owner wherever they wished.

As soon as Crowley was settled behind the wheel, the Bentley began blasting “Don’t Stop Me Now.”

“Oi, turn it down will you? It’s three in the fucking morning, you beast,” Crowley complained. The Bentley perceptibly turned the volume up.

Crowley glared at the dash and kept driving. Hopefully the music wouldn’t bother the angel.

***

Pulling into their equally illegal parking spot in front of the bookshop a few minutes later, Crowley flipped the Bentley the bird with one hand as they used the other to miracle the door open and saunter in. The bell above the door tinkled as their stilettos click-clacked on the wooden floor.

“G’morning, angel! You’re up early, even for you,” Crowley said as a greeting, announcing their presence. They could feel the angel nearby, but there was no visual sign of him, so Crowley made their way to the backroom to settle onto their favorite sofa and wait.

When the demon opened their eyes next, thin morning light streamed in through the curtains, and still no Aziraphale. So Crowley lifted themself from the sofa with a (quite dignified, thank you very much) groan, and made their way to the flat above the shop to track down their angel.

Upon opening the door to the flat, they were nearly bowled over by the noise coming from the record player in the corner of the small, but angel-less, sitting room. A flick of the demon’s wrist had the volume down to a reasonable level, then they laid their sunglasses on top of the hi-fi, a remarkably modern piece for the angel. When they heard a smooth tenor from the bedroom, they followed the honeyed voice.

“There you are angel, I’ve been looking all over for you,” Crowley said, finding Aziraphale on his hands and knees, singing to himself and swinging his hips to the beat of the music while reaching under the bed. He had no idea what he did to his demon—looking like that. _Which of us is the tempter, here?_ When he heard Crowley’s voice, he flew to his feet. Or tried to.

Crowley rushed to the angel’s side as he got up, wrapping their arms around his waist. Aziraphale was slow to get up, putting first one foot under himself, then the other.

“Okay, angel, brace your hands on the bed. I’ve got you,” the demon said laying one palm flat against the angel’s chest, lifting gently, supporting his weight easily. After a minute or so of gradually straightening his spine, Aziraphale stood facing the redhead. And for all the effort that it took to get him to his feet, the angel was babbling, energetic and adorable as ever.

“Oh, dear! I didn’t realize you were here already! I looked at the time after I text messaged you—“

“You can just say ‘text.’”

“—and I assumed you wouldn’t see the message until you woke up around... oh, my, what time is it now?” Aziraphale trailed off, looking around for something, perhaps his phone, but was hindered by the fact that he was still encircled by Crowley’s arms.

“It’s a quarter past six,” Crowley said, rubbing their neck. “I came over as soon as I got your _text_ , but I may have had a kip on the sofa when I didn’t find you downstairs.”

“Wonderful, my dear! I was hoping you got enough sleep,” Aziraphale beamed at the redhead. “Now, would you mind terribly grabbing the—under the bed—yes—I tried to reach but my arms are just a tad too short, you see—“ the angel directed as Crowley got to their hands and knees searching for who-knew-what under the bed.

Crowley groaned as they felt whatever-it-was with their out-stretched fingertips, “Why—in the heaven—didn’t you just use a miracle, Aziraphale?”

_Aha! Got you, you little fucker._

“Oh! I guess I didn’t think to—“

“Just what did you have planned for me when you texted, angel?” Crowley smirked as they held up the dildo from under the bed triumphantly.

It was an understated affair, sleek and smooth, clearly meant for teasing and foreplay, not actually bringing them off. Crowley’s smirk only grew as Aziraphale’s blush deepened.

The blond tried several times to begin speaking, only to snap his jaw shut in failure each time. Finally, with a deep breath: “Well, I thought we might— That is, if you’re amenable, dear— Might ride the dragon upon St. George, if you were feeling up to it.”

“Oh, angel,” the redhead drawled, crowding into Aziraphale’s space once more and slipping the dildo into his hand. “You’ve no idea.”

***

“Fuck—lemme take thesssse off. My feet are killing me,” Crowley hissed, pulling away from the angel’s lips to pull off their towering stilettos.

“Why do you wear them, love, if they hurt you so?” Aziraphale asked, peppering kisses up the demon’s long neck toward their ear. Each touch a tiny sliver of Heavenly Grace, tingling down the redhead’s spine and settling deep in their belly like simmering heat, just waiting to ignite. Crowley flirted a big game, but turned to putty as soon as the angel laid hands on them.

“Cossss you like ‘em,” Crowley whispered. Now that their shoes were off, they we closer to a level height with their angel, though still a bit taller, and Aziraphale seemed to be trying to use that to his advantage, turning Crowley’s face so he could kiss and nip along their jaw. It wouldn’t be long before they melted into a puddle of ... whatever demons melted into. Sulphur?

“That is true, dearest, but I would prefer to concentrate on your pleasure, rather than trying to please me,” the angel finished, nipping at their ear.

Crowley absolutely _did not_ whine at that, _pleasing you_ is _what gives me pleasure._

“What was that, love?”

“Pleasing you isssss what gives me pleassssure,” Crowley breathed.

“Oh, darling,” Aziraphale purred, “then let me please both of us.”

Aziraphale’s response just fanned the flames of the demon’s desire. He growled low in his throat as he grabbed Crowley under both thighs and lifted, using his hidden strength to bodily carry them to the bed. For their part, the demon dug the nails of one hand into the angel’s shoulder, while the other hand buried itself in his short curls, directing his head to tilt upward so they could continue kissing.

The angel walked slowly to the bed, steps sure and steady to the edge where he gently lowered Crowley to the soft surface. The demon’s locks fanned out against the sheets as Aziraphale bent over the redhead, gripping their hands above their head by their wrists.

“I adore the way you keen for me, dear.”

“I’m a demon. I don’t _keen_.”

“Then what exactly do you call this,” the blond teased as he transferred both of Crowley’s wrists to one hand so he could use the other to tease his hand under the redhead’s silk top. They whimpered as his fingertips tickled against the narrow ribcage, up and up, until reaching a small, pert breast. To Aziraphale, the demon’s moans sounded like the most beautiful symphony. As they were worshipped by divine teeth and tongue laving prayers against Crowley’s nipple through the fabric of their shirt, the demonic body underneath arched up against their lover.

“Pleasssse, angel, don’t teasssse me,” Crowley whined.

“I have no idea what you mean, darling.” Blond curls shone like a halo, the angel’s voice muffled against their breast. But Aziraphale was well aware of his effect on the demon, and couldn’t help but shoot them a playful smirk before resuming his task of unbuttoning their blouse with his teeth.

_No angel should be able to smile like that_ , Crowley thought.

“No angel should be able to ssssmile like that,” they said through clenched teeth. Aziraphale cocked his hips, dragging his hard length against his lover’s fiery core as a response. A low moan followed each stroke of his prick against the demon. He gasped as his curls were grabbed, his head jerked back to gaze directly into yellow eyes.

_When had Crowley got their hands free?_

“Fuck me, angel,” Crowley growled

“Patience is a virtue, dear.”

“Not keen on virtues, me. Just you, angel.”

Aziraphale groaned, head dropping back to the demon’s chest. He inhaled once. Exhaled slowly.

Inhaled again.

“Fuck it,” the angel swore, clicking his fingers to miracle away Crowley’s trousers. Underneath, he was unsurprised to find them bare and glistening and ran a perfectly manicured fingertip against the demon’s slit. Aziraphale teased the demon’s nether lips apart, rubbing gently at their clit as they undulated against his hand.

“May I taste you, my dear?”

To this point a gentle blush had been building steadily on the demon’s face, creeping down their neck and chest. Now it flared to life, burning their top half a brilliant red.

“Ngk.”

“Words, Crowley.”

“How long have we known each other angel?”

“Six thousand twenty three years, give or take. Why do you ask?”

“Then you know damn well what my ansssswer is going to be! Just do it! We’ve been together for literal millennia! You know everything about me! You know me better than I know myself, kinkssss included! So do whatever you want!” they ranted, not bothering to stop to breathe.

“Are you finished?” Aziraphale raised an eyebrow.

After a pause, “Yesss.”

“I do indeed know you, Crowley, inside and out, kinks and all. And I would expect that you, by now, should know about my kinks as well; particularly that I get off on explicit consent,” the look the angel gave them seared down their back to settle at the base of their spine. “So I will repeat myself, just this once, my love. May I taste you?”

“Yes, fuck,” they choked, “just – yes, angel!”

“Splendid!” Without another word, a head of blond curls buried itself between the demon’s thighs. Aziraphale’s tongue licked broad strokes up their dripping cunt, swirling around Crowley’s engorged clit. Every caress had the redhead begging for more, no longer shy now that the angel had his hands on them.

Well, not hands.

“’Zsssiraphale, idle hands are the devil’ssss plaything, you know,” they slurred.

Aziraphale didn’t move away from his task as he spoke, his tenor voice sending pleasant vibrations through the demon’s core, “My dear, it seems to me, right now, the devil were my plaything, don’t you agree?” He chuckled at his own cleverness, and Crowley shivered.

“But perhaps,” he said, pulling away to look into half-lidded yellow eyes, “this is your way of asking for something?”

_Fuck, he’s really going to make me say it_ , Crowley’s eyes opened fully at the realization. The yellow iris had taken over the white of their eye as soon as they saw their angel wiggling his ass trying to get to the dildo under the bed, but now their pupils were blown wide with desire; if one didn’t look too closely or for too long, they may be mistaken for the eyes of an incredibly aroused human.

“Will you—ngk—angel—fuck! Will you finger me?”

A beat, a moment passed between the occult/ethereal entities—the angel’s heart bursting with pride that his lover had been able to voice their desires so quickly tonight. Aziraphale gazed at Crowley, mentally preparing the words of praise he planned to heap on the demon.

The demon held their breath, searching the angel’s face for any clue to how their request was received. Though the blue eyes were dark with passion, Crowley could not read Aziraphale’s expression. Panic set in, so they did what they did best; they started talking.

“Pleassse?” begged Crowley, “pleassse just touch me, angel, I’ll do whatever you want—“

“I’d be honored,” gushed Aziraphale at the same time, stopping when he parsed what the demon was saying.

“Stop, dearest, please—” the angel began, but the redhead plowed forward.

“Angel—Sir—I’m sssorry—I should have said pleassse right off. If you want me to beg, I’ll beg! I’ll be sssso good for you, pleassse, just let me—“

“Eden.” The tone brooked no argument.

Wide, golden eyes looked up at the angel as if seeing him for the first time. And then the tears started.

Crowley threw themself into the blond’s arms, tucking their head into the safety of the angel’s chest. Aziraphale let his wings out onto the physical plane to envelop his love in soft, white feathers, out of sight of the world as he stroked the demon’s hair as their sobs slowly turned into hiccups.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, my love,” the angel started. “I shouldn’t have pushed you so far so fast. You did so well, and I’m so proud of you. I’m so sorry I didn’t take better care of you, dearest.”

At this, the sobbing returned, and Aziraphale’s heart sank. He knew there would be more to making up for his mistake than a simple apology, but he didn’t want his apology to make things worse for Crowley. But they hadn’t let go of him, or asked him to stop petting their hair, so perhaps they were simply overwhelmed.

Not that the demon would ever admit that.

“‘Ziraphale?” A tiny, muffled whisper from the demon.

“Yes, my love.”

“Thank you,” a pause. “For — you know. Pushing my limits, but also—ngk—knowing when to stop.”

Aziraphale just held his demon tighter, bussing a kiss to the top of their head.

“How does a hot bath sound?”

A shiver and delighted moan were all the answer he needed.

***

“Mmmmm… angel, stop wiggling,” Crowley complained from their nest under the covers.

“So sorry dear,” Aziraphale replied. “I just—“ he twisted, “—can’t—“ squirmed “—seem to get—“ fidgeted “--comfortable.” He gave up with a sigh, arms and legs flopping on the bed akimbo. Crowley looked out from under the hand that had landed on their face.

“When did the pain start, angel?”

Aziraphale let out a sigh. “I’m not certain. You know how it is, dear. It builds up over time, and I don’t notice until suddenly – I’m having trouble moving, sitting, _lying down_ —“

“How long has it been since you--?” the demon let the question hang.

“Oh, several months, now. Haven’t seen hide nor hair of Gabriel or any of the others.”

In the time that Crowley had known Aziraphale, the angel had suffered physically, being on Earth. As a being made in and meant for service in Heaven, the angel struggled to live among the humans, away from his divine brethren. Only regular check-ins with Head Office and visits from other angels, as unpleasant as they may have been, helped restore his corporation’s strength. And his Grace.

“Is that why you didn’t--?” Crowley motioned vaguely, knowing the angel would understand.

“I suppose so. I didn’t really think about it at the time, dear. It just rolled under the bed while I was cleaning and I dove after it. It was a good thing you were here, really,” Aziraphale explained.

“I’ll always be here for you, angel.” Crowley whispered. Louder, “What part hurts? Do you need a hot water bottle?”

“No water bottle tonight, but could you rub my knees? They ache like the dickens,” the angel said as he relaxed back into a mound of pillows miracled for him by his demon. A demon who had also conjured a favored salve to rub into tender joints. As Crowley started kneading the tendons with slender, skillful fingers, the angel sank deeper into his nest of pillows with a satisfied groan.

“Feeling better, angel?” Crowley asked.

They received a soft snore in reply.

“G’night, angel.”


End file.
